


Summer Boy

by teprometo



Series: 2014 Summer Pornathon [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Age Difference, M/M, Power Imbalance, Teacher-Student Relationship, Team Gluttony, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks like summer—like days that last forever, playing outside and getting gravel worked so deep in your wounds you think you'll be leaving trails of tar-black sand behind you for weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2014 Summer Pornathon week four challenge, [Tropesmash](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/104179.html).

He looks like summer—like days that last forever, playing outside and getting gravel worked so deep in your wounds you think you'll be leaving trails of tar-black sand behind you for weeks. He smells like summer, too, like sweat and grass, chlorine and your American grandmother's sweet tea, lemon wedge and all.

If Merlin is summer, then you're autumn, starting to turn, your leaves changing colour, changing texture, days growing colder, shorter, but the sharp scent of cider makes you a little bit perfect. You make people want to bring the smell of bonfires in on their manky old hoodies, to fuck on the living room floor with the telly on low and the heat on high, to drink tea in bed under several duvets with the windows thrown wide open.

More importantly, you make _Merlin_ want these things. You slow him down for a spell, just long enough to spread wide for you, show off the pieces of youth you miss (the smooth, hot skin; the fine, lean muscle; the impressive stretch of resiliency) while you make him come and come and _come_ , more than you ever could, even at his age. 

 

The first time, Merlin came in his pants, squirming and quiet. You were sitting close, shoulder pressed firmly against his back. One hand resting on the bench behind him, your thumb brushed his jeans every time you reached across to show him something on the computer screen. The friction of natural movement, the heat of you through your basic white button-up got him hard, got him _off_.

He stopped breathing. You saw the wild, needy look in his eyes, pressed your palm flat against the small of his back. His hips surged just once, his mouth an open vacuum that drew in your gasp, your light, everything that made you a person who didn’t fuck your students. In one small moment, he changed you. The damp spot on his jeans lit you up with need, and you stopped being yourself. You were his, completely, and you will never belong to anyone else this way.

He wanted to blow you, his eyes wet with the force of his orgasm, and probably a bit of shame. He came again with his mouth around your dick, right there in the computer lab, the aircon on high, making your leg hair stand out straight.

When you didn’t come before his jaw ached, he almost cried, stammering apologies, red-faced and curled around himself. You shoved him flat on his back, pushed his shirt up past his nipples, kissed him hard and deep until he was writhing against you, his jeans chafing rough against your bare cock.

You got him naked from armpits to knees, fisting your hand in his hair and making him watch your cock sliding against his.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” Merlin begged, his tongue sliding wet between your fingers. Instead you smeared his saliva all over his chin just to make a mess of him.

His legs were pliant and easy when you pushed them back, and he watched with blown-black eyes as you pressed the head of your cock to his hole. Just touching him there had his dick dribbling out the last bit of come left in him. You had dried him out, and the thought of using up this eager boy had your cock twitching against him, strong squirts of come slipping over Merlin’s virgin hole, making him dirty, making him _yours_.

 

You let Merlin fuck you. You _beg_ him to fuck you, open yourself up while he watches. He’s terrified, thinks he’ll do it wrong and break the spell, make you remember that he’s only sixteen, that he’s your student—that he will leave you someday.

That’s why you need this.

He’s careful with you, tender. He lies between your thighs and kisses you and _kisses you_ , through two of his own quiet orgasms, until he gets you there, lays kisses across your neck and shoulders.

Your orgasm is a tide, easy and gentle and cresting, and he looks at your eyes, touches your face, sunk in you so deep you think he _is_ you.

“Arthur,” he says. You lean up for a needy kiss, and he is flush against you, holds nothing back.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, and you let out a sob. “I love you,” he repeats, again and again.

You believe him.

You believe him, and it makes you hate yourself.


End file.
